


narcissus, narcissus, where did thy echo go?

by rottencloset



Series: bottom damian wayne week 2020 [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: BDWW 2020, BDWW2020, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Bottom Damian Wayne, Bottom Damian Wayne Week, Complicated Relationships, Consensual Violence, Consent Issues, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Dom Tim Drake, Dom/sub, Frottage, Lack of Communication, Light BDSM, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Platonic Sex, Possibly Unrequited Love, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Spanking, Sub Damian Wayne, Top Tim Drake, Verbal Humiliation, someone needs to learn what aftercare is and that someone's name starts with a t and ends with an m, sounds bad but honestly its just bad communication rly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:13:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27388507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rottencloset/pseuds/rottencloset
Summary: The two of them have... a thing.They don't talk about it. There was no aftercare or apologies, but if Tim was a little bit more patient and Damian a bit more mellow, than it was simply coincidence. Their relationship was still a hot mess, even without the more physical side of it, but they had reached a balance, even if it seemed like they were more rough with each other, meaner.Damian is left with the consequences. But he keeps that to himself.—Fool, why try to catch a fleeting image, in vain? What you search for is nowhere: turning away, what you love is lost! What you perceive is the shadow of reflected form: nothing of you is in it.--Metamorphoses, Book III, translated by A.S. Kline.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Damian Wayne
Series: bottom damian wayne week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1994908
Comments: 12
Kudos: 111
Collections: BottomDamianWayneWeek2020





	narcissus, narcissus, where did thy echo go?

**Author's Note:**

> ~~Maid!Damian~~ / (Semi) Public Sex / Spanking / ~~(Teen) Pregnancy | A/B/O Mpreg~~
> 
> quote in summary is from the myth of narcissus and echo which is something that fits pretty well with this fic as u soon will see. gave me a lil insp too so :) this one's for the timdami fans. yoink
> 
> technically fourth fill for bottom damian wayne week... i just gotta finish the others oop 
> 
> TW://  
> Semi-graphic violence  
> Very rough sex (?)  
> Face slapping  
> Consent gained in the beginning of scene, not beforehand  
> Bare minimum of communication / checking of consent  
> Name-calling  
> Tim's a bit of a jerk in this one. he doesnt mean to be but.. yknow. and like. damian enjoys it 
> 
> i promise it aint too awful and does not bash tim, i pinky swear !! these boys just suck at communication and instead fuck their feelings out

There’s a shuffle of movement, and then he’s dragged into Drake’s lap and shoved down onto his belly. For a breathless second he laid there, stunned. But, it took a couple of seconds for his brain to catch up with him, and when it did Damian immediately  _ snarled _ and began to thrash around angrily. 

“What the _ fuck,  _ you imbecile-” He spat, and wriggled madly against Tim’s thighs, trying his best to escape. He didn’t respond. 

A firm hand held his arms flush against his back, and as much as he tried to he couldn’t ignore the sharp, lancing pain that happened every time he tried to sit up; each time he tried, his so called brother pushed him down again by his captured wrists, harsh. Panic crawled up his throat when he failed to escape again and again and again. But he fought on, regardless. 

After a couple minutes of fruitlessly trying to escape and desperately attempting to stamp down his emotions, his captor’s patience ran out with a measured sigh. Right in the middle of one of his upward heaves, Drake finally, finally responded, voice frigid and blank, and crushed him against his legs. “Stop.” 

Fear trickled down his spine, but Damian ignored it. Craning his neck as best as possible to glare at Tim, he opened his mouth and let the poison licking at the back of his throat spill out, covering up his fear as best he could. “Unhand me at once, you pathetic coward.” Much to his horror, his voice trembled slightly, giving away his terror as he still wriggled around. 

There was a moment of silence after his yell. Cold, all encompassing, frightening. 

And then Timothy slapped his ass. Hard. 

Biting back an instinctual yelp, he stiffened up, muscles locking. This had officially gone from annoying and weird to terrifying. Why had he done that? Was this supposed to be some horribly messed up Western substitution for discipline? 

(It had to be.) 

Damian didn’t say anything, and instead dropped his head on the armrest with a quiet ‘thunk’ and desperately tried to regulate his breathing. Drake ran the same hand across his cheeks, soothing them gently. And then- then he began rubbing and stroking in ways that made the younger shiver. It was absentminded, casual, like when Grayson ruffled his hair or when Todd placed a steady hand on his shoulder, but the fact that it was his ass made him doubly uncomfortable. 

This was. Not appropriate. 

He was entirely out of his depth. He did not know what was going on, or what had possessed his brother to do this, but he did know that any type of weakness- a sound, a shift in body language, anything- would not benefit him. Forcibly, he relaxed into Timothy’s hold; if he could convince him that he was truly submissive to this, this, punishment, or whatever it was, the better chance he could take him by surprise and escape. 

His train of thought was derailed when Drake spanked him again, equally as harsh as the first, and Damian clenched his jaw. It burned. As loathe as he was to admit it, it hurt. 

“Fuck, that shut you up, didn’t it?” He muttered, voice low and husky with something Damian did not like at all. 

A thick thumb rubbed across his crack in a way that couldn’t be interpreted as anything other than sexual, and the younger trembled at the confirmation of what he suspected was happening. He didn’t want this. 

“Don’t touch me, let me go-” His fear couldn’t be missed, now, and if he wasn’t so terrified with the situation he would be more concerned about his pride, but he was desperate. “ _ Please!”  _ Damian shrieked, and to his complete and utter surprise, Drake’s hands lifted from where they were clasped around him hard enough to bruise and shoved him out of his lap, out onto the floor. 

He hit the floor with a crack. 

For a second, he lay there, stunned and curled up onto his side, and then a foot prodded at his back. “I did what you asked,” Tim said casually, eyes already fixed back on the Batcomputer. “-now move, please, you’re in the way.” 

Pulse pounding in his ears and shamefully,  _ shamefully  _ pulsing his groin, Damian hissed- well, more like sobbed- out, “What is  _ wrong _ with you?!” The older man pushed back in the chair silently and dug his heel into the softest part of Damian available until he yelped. 

“I’m giving you what you want, Damian. You’re acting out and being a goddamn brat because you need attention, right? Need someone to give at least some sort of shit about you, even if it’s punishing you for bad behavior?” The pressure increased even more, and Damian shook his head, lips parted but no words coming out. 

Timothy tsked. “Stop lying. We both know I’m right, and we both know if you  _ really  _ tried you could have escaped.” 

(He was right.) 

His foot nudged Damian again. “Now move. I won’t ask again.” Dumbstruck, confused, and perhaps the tiniest bit aroused, he rolled over and scampered away towards the nearest exit, feeling like his whole world had just been turned over. 

He didn’t look back, but if he did he would have seen Tim, hard in his pants. 

Just like him. 

—

A similar strange occurrence happened again two days later. They were on patrol, and Damian had actually been being  _ good _ , if a bit quiet, and both of them didn’t bring up what happened. 

Then Robin had done…  _ something _ . He wasn’t even sure what- maybe it was the snarky comment he made a couple of minutes ago, or how he’d brushed past the elder roughly when they landed on the roof, but he was currently bent over with his face shoved against the rough wall with one of Tim’s hands curled in his dark hair and pressing against the back of his head to grind his cheek into the brick while he loomed over him. There was no space between them; they were flush to one another with Tim quite literally draped over him, and that meant his crotch was right against Damian’s toned ass. 

“Red Robin-” he growled and began to squirm, “-what is the meaning of this. Get  _ off _ .” He couldn’t really see Tim because of how he was being held down, so the hot puff of air and warm lips that just barely brushed the tips of his ears caught him off guard. 

“No.” 

Damian blinked. 

“What the hell do you  _ mean _ no??” He bucked his hips angrily and struggled as best he could because of the awkward, uncomfortable  _ intimate _ position he was in, but all that succeeded in doing was making Tim even more irritated. 

His head felt jumbled. Accusations and pleas and threats all scrambled around in Damian’s mind, and just as he was able to gather his thoughts a warm hand palmed over his thighs and dipped down, and he  _ yelped _ like a wounded dog. 

The vigilante ignored him and slivered his free hand towards Damian’s warm groin, cupping over it entirely, and that’s when he gave up being pliant. 

“You  _ freak-! _ ”

Timothy simply tightened his grip, using his weight to keep the little demon in in place and let out a soft snort at how stupid his brother’s frantic escape attempts made him look. And, well. How Damian was achieving the opposite of what he wanted as he accidentally stimulated his crotch with his flailing. His cock swelled, slow, and he groaned low in his throat, making Damian still momentarily as he realized what was bumping up against his cheeks. 

And that’s when he began to  _ really _ thrash around and protest. 

“Shut  _ up _ .” Rolling his eyes, Tim removed his hand from Damian’s crotch and carelessly shoved two digits into his gaping mouth. Before he could try and bite off the invading fingers, they wormed their way to the back wall and plunged down even further into his tight throat with a wet squelch. Damian gagged around the intrusion and tried to struggle away, but Tim- with a cruel smirk on his face- simply tsked mockingly and rolled his hips up, grinding casually. 

“You could get away, brat,” He remarked, “All you have to do is tap your emblem and your emergency beacon will go off.” The pressure on Damian’s face abruptly increased as he pushed it harder into the brick, and he hissed angrily as grit scraped up against his tender skin. 

“Or,” Tim offered, leaning in conspiratorially, voice dark, “You could do something  _ stupid _ and  _ not _ .” He rolled his hips into Damian’s and grunted at the stimulation, thrusting roughly once before he stopped but still kept him pinned in place. 

“Well?” 

Damian didn’t touch the R pinned proudly on his chest, just looked back at him, face blank and red with both his blush and the wounds that dribbled out blood. Slowly, and just the tiniest bit, he tilted his hips back and spread his legs so Tim had access to the inside of his thighs at the exact same time as he spat out an insult at the older teen. “ _ Damn _ you, Drake-” 

Tim’s gloved hand slapped down over his mouth, and without stopping the slightest bit he rammed three of his fingers in as far as they could go. Damian gurgled, protested, and Red Robin rolled his eyes beneath his mask. “Do us both a favor, Damian, and shut the  _ hell _ up for once. Let me make you be  _ useful.” _ He abruptly increased the tempo and force of his thrusts against the younger as he presumably raced towards orgasm- just some from frotting, Damian thought-, jolting him forward and making his dark skin smear across the rough brick once again with each rough clap of their hips. 

Drake didn’t said a word after that, just  _ used _ him. 

A long, drawn out groan soon broke the night air, and Robin could feel the wet warmth from the other’s ejaculation soak into his uniform. “Slut,” Tim rasped against his neck, and jerkily rutted up against him a couple more times, “What a goddamn  _ painslut _ you are.” 

He stopped moving, and the two of them panted for a quiet moment. “Remove yourself-” Damian started, but he was cut off by a harsh smack to the face. His head jerked to the side from the force of it, and he could feel the blood rush to his cheeks once again. It was humiliating, it was  _ degrading _ , and it  _ hurt.  _

It felt  _ good.  _

By the time he regained his senses and righted his head, Red Robin was gone. 

—

They didn’t talk about it. There was no aftercare or apologies, but if Tim was a little bit more patient and Damian a bit more mellow, than it was simply coincidence. Their relationship was still a hot mess, even without the more  _ physical  _ side of it, but they had reached a balance, even if it seemed like they were more rough with each other, meaner. 

Tim hurt, and he took, and Damian let himself be combative, let himself be objectified and  _ gave.  _

Things just… progressed. Frottage and oral and handjobs, everything under the sun but Tim’s cock actually  _ inside _ him.

It was infuriating. It was torture. It was  _ unfair _ . 

Damian didn’t bring it up. 

—

“Oh,” Damian whimpered, “oh.” 

His hips rocked back and forth on top of Tim as he fluidly fucked himself on the elder’s fingers, the Batchair creaking with each movement. He was doing most of the work; all of it, if he was being honest, but he at the very least he was grateful to have someone touching him and paying him attention, no matter how little or cruel it was. 

At a particularly deep thrust that hit his prostate, he moaned and began to pant, trying his best to hit that bundle of nerves again. Above him, Tim didn’t move an inch, eyes firmly placed on the computer as he typed with his free hand. “Would you be quiet? I’m trying to concentrate.” 

Damian snarled. “Fuck you, Drake!” 

The quiet clicking of keys abruptly stopped, and there was a moment of absolute stillness, and then Tim moved.

One hand twisted Damian onto his stomach so he was facing ass up, and before he could protest his long, slender fingers cruelly jabbed up into the younger. 

Damian let out a cry, wailing and bucking in place on the elder’s lap. “You can’t do one nice thing for me. Not one. Not even when I have my fingers up your ass.” 

Said fingers twisted and pumped out of him lewdly, fluid shining on them under the fluorescent lights of the Batcave and skin smacking wetly together as Tim fucked in and out of Damian’s tight little hole. 

And then Tim  _ spread _ them wide open, stretching him out, and he whined breathlessly. His asshole felt like it was gaping open, and the cool air caressing against parts previously untouched made him feel even more exposed. 

There was a spitting noise, and a wet glob of what had to be saliva splattered onto him. “ _ Timothy, do not-! _ ” Damian snapped, and he twitched from the swat to his ass. He pinned him with an absolutely acidic glare even as he rolled his hips back, searching for those clever, clever fingers to fill him up again. Two thumbs sunk into his hole and forcefully spread it, and he looked over his shoulder, alarmed. 

Tim spat  _ again.  _

Drool slipped down his crack sloppily and Damian was so distracted by hissing reproachfully at his tormentor that he didn’t register the thick, hot cock against his stomach until it met his bare skin. He flushed, spluttering, and Tim used that to his advantage as he sat him up so that the Robin was straddling his waist, tiny dick plumped up and erect as it leaked precum onto his clothes. 

Meeting Damian’s eyes, he reached down and freed it from the confines of his shorts, then slowly stroked up the length once, stopping at the tip to rub his thumb over it and dig his nail into the thin slit. He  _ whimpered  _ when Tim dug it in even more until a bead of pre managed to escape, and gasped shakily when he smeared it over the head and meaningfully pumped down to spread the slickness. 

He managed to stutter out a word. “Wh-what?” 

His predecessor did not answer. 

Instead, he did it again, and while Damian noticed how he was slowly,  _ carefully-  _ as if it not to alert him- reached behind and around him to adjust his own prick so that it was just centimeters from penetrating him, he was far more distracted at the attention being lavished onto his small dick. 

Timothy had hardly ever touched him, and when he did it was not like  _ this.  _ Gentle. 

Even as consumed as he was by the stimulation, he noticed when the head of Tim’s formidable cock prodded against his rim. He froze. 

Tim did not. 

Glancing behind him, Damian inhaled sharply as he took in just how  _ large _ it truly was. Most of what they had done had been with clothes on or fumblings in the dark, so this was perhaps the third or fourth time he’d seen it up close. It was a dark, angry red at the tip, and as he watched it seemed to stiffen even more as more blood rushed into it, and at this point it just looked damn painful. Tim rubbed his cock a little bit more against his hole, and he could literally feel how it pulsed against the whorl of his asshole, big and thick and hard and  _ aching.  _

It was going to split him in two, and Damian physically felt his length soften a bit at just imaging how wide he would be forced open. 

And that, of course, was when Tim squeezed his dick in his palm. His attention snapped back to his front, and he swallowed back a surprised cry when he saw just how tiny he was in the other’s hand. His thighs started to tremble minutely when Tim massaged at the head- which was barely poking out of the clutch of his fist- and Damian hiccuped as he was forced back to hardness. “Stay hard for me,” He ordered, when all he got was a pathetic mewl in reply he yanked on it warningly. As he admired Damian’s leaking, miserable prick and how small it was in comparison to himself, he leaned back in the chair smugly and smirked. “Not that it makes much of a difference, I suppose.” 

He toyed at the pink tip momentarily before he pinched it in between his fingers absentmindedly and began to muse aloud. “Are you even erect? I can hardly tell. Your little dick is just so tiny.” Tim paused. 

“I mean, it doesn’t really matter… I’ll be fucking your little hole open. It’s basically going to be useless. But… still. I  _ do  _ want you to be  _ obedient _ for once.” His tone darkened, and his grip tightened momentarily. Damian squirmed, and murmured something incomprehensible. “Got it?” 

Frantically, the teen nodded as fast as he could, and Tim huffed, amused. 

Slowly, he loosened his fist, maintaining eye-contact the entire time, and the tiny organ sprang back to life, swelling up a bit. “Alright, then. It’s time for me to get what I  _ deserve _ for putting up with you, right, Damian?”

With that, he pushed in. The hole resisted at first, but when he jerked his hips up a little bit the head audibly popped in. It clenched around him, tight and hot and wet, and Tim moaned filthily in anticipation of being balls deep, of  _ carving _ his way into the little Robin on his lap and making him  _ take _ it. He would enjoy it, and by God he would make Damian too. 

“Mmnnguh,” Damian slurred, and grasped at his shirt, clinging. His asshole slowly succumbed to the hot pressure being shoved inside, and Tim jerked his hips up once to force more of himself inside, punching a truly embarrassing sound out of him. “Uhn _!” _

The clutch of the channel was heaven as Timothy forcefully slid his way in- it was practically milking him as it spasmed around him in alarm at each precious centimeter he managed to stuff in. After what seemed like eternity, his heavy balls were snug against Damian’s pert little ass. 

“Holy shit,” Tim swore, voice husky, and bucked up into that warmth again, yanking the teen in his lap down a bit at the same time and grinding as he groaned loudly at the noise that tore out of the younger’s throat. He pried his hand off of Damian’s hip- and damn, that was going to bruise- and smacked the reddened cheeks, chest vibrating just the tiniest bit with his low, satisfied sound when it reflexively tightened around him. 

He did it again and again until his hands were stinging and Damian was gasping against his chest and keening brokenly, face as red as his bottom and the very tip of his straining dick. Tim pulled out near entirely and lifted the younger up high enough so that the head of himself was the only thing still sheathed within Damian’s tightness. “Dealing with all of your bitchiness-” he said, and dropped Damian down at the same time he thrust upward, burying himself into the hilt in one smooth- of difficult to sink into- stroke, “-was fucking  _ worth _ it for this  _ ass,  _ god.” 

Damian  _ sobbed,  _ overwhelmed and twitching, and the bobbing prick between his legs suddenly felt hot, and as he was roughly bounced up and down in Tim’s lap pressure built up and his tip throbbed with heat and arousal until semen burst out and exploded across both himself and the other vigilante. 

Tim was taken totally off guard and he  _ knew  _ he was going to cum too. “Holy fucking shit,” He said breathlessly, and rapidly began to pump his hips up and down in despite of how Damian weakly protested and clawed at him. “I didn’t think you were that much of a  _ whore  _ to cum untouched,  _ damn _ -” 

With one last animalistic fuck upward into Damian, Tim came, groaning throughout the entire thing. 

“Fuuuuck,” He hissed when cum finally stopped pouring out of him, and flopped back in the chair. “I think you milked me dry, baby bat.” An oily smile slid across Tim’s face, and he settled his hands on Damian’s thighs. “Such a good bitch for me.” 

Damian was still and lax in his lap, except for the occasional wheeze, and soon enough the warmth of his cum-stuffed hole started to fade. Tim slowly raised him up off his cock, and watched with avid interest as his seed began to seep out. The head stayed lodged in Damian’s asshole for a moment, clutched in place by his rim, and when he finally got the right angle to fully slip out even more began to dribble slowly down the curve off his ass. He stood up and set Damian on the Batchair and took a moment to tuck himself back in his pants and zip them up before he approached the youngest Bat again. 

Damian was still slumped in the chair as he caught his breath, and Tim felt his eyes crinkle up a little bit. He was pretty cute, after all, and he’d been especially good for their first anal session. 

He reached down and mussed up his black hair, and when glazed eyes met his he let a genuine tilt to his lips take place. “Good fuck, Damian,” Tim said, and on a quick impulse reached down and kissed his sweaty locks. “Go get cleaned up now, yeah? It’d be a bit awkward for anyone to walk on you like this.” He nodded slowly, and satisfied with his response Tim turned away and sauntered towards the exit to the Batcave, almost jauntily waving as he ascended up the stairs. 

“I’d hurry up if I were you,” He called, and by the time the sound of his steps faded away it still echoed around the cave. 

Damian waited until it finally died out and he was once again wholly left alone before he moved. No one but him in the cave. 

There was no more echo, anymore, no ghost or remenant of Tim to linger, just like the rest of the times.

He sat up from the chair still stained with their cum, and absentmindedly made a mental note to fix that up before anyone else arrived. 

With that, he turned around and did just as Tim told him to. 

He headed for the showers. 

**Author's Note:**

> hmu on my Twitter (https://mobile.twitter.com/rottencloset)
> 
> (fortnite dances towards u menacingly) son why dont u drop a comment for this starving author... who knows. maybe it will replenish their health


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